Hegel proposes a contradiction in understanding the history of philosophy: that philosophy, being the pursuit of free thought and truth, is eternal and everlasting, whereas history is dead. Thought, Hegel claims, is continuous and cannot be viewed as past, but eternal present. "A third conclusion to be drawn from what has been said up to this point is that we are not dealing with what is past but
rather with actual thinking, with our own spirit. Properly speaking,
then, this is not a history, since the thoughts, the principles, the
ideas with which we are concerned belong to the present; they are determinations within our own spirit. The historical, i.e., the past as
such, is no longer, it is dead."
Once again, Hegel touches on the coldness of history compared to philosophy; while philosophy is accessible, history invokes non-involvement, treating things as if they were dead. It is something "external" from the interpreter-- much like the metaphor of embalming found in last semester's discussion of the archive. History is merely the preserved dead. Hegel criticizes this definitive historical, saying, "The tendency to be abstractly historical, to be occupied with lifeless objects, has in recent times gained ground."
The question for historians, moreso than philosophers, is one of validity: if we as comparative literature students, historians and literary critics at the same time, are merely handling what has died and cannot be resurrected, what is the significance of the work we do? How do we preserve the past and contribute to the present, and perhaps most importantly, as Derrida would suggest, how do we even preserve the past without destroying what it was and supplementing it with our own interpretations? All of these issues arise from the implication that history is merely what is dead, external, and inaccessible.
As for whether or not I believe history is dead or alive, I have to disagree with Hegel. I would not go so far as to claim that history is alive either; history repeats itself, and in many ways, has a lingering effect on present day, but it not immortal or eternal, as Hegel suggests of philosophy. The people have died, the objects have fallen apart, and the mindsets and beliefs have vanished. It is more accurate to suggest that history is neither dead nor alive, but the walking undead. In Dracula, a peasant tells the narrator to beware, "for the dead travel fast." History is instead the long dead which reaches from the ground and grabs at you, the thing which revives itself at each page. It has been preserved beyond death, but it is not pristine either; its body has begun to decay, there are scratches, wear, and blank patches. And beyond all this, it is consumptive. History consumes you, preserves you as its next undead.
Once again, Hegel touches on the coldness of history compared to philosophy; while philosophy is accessible, history invokes non-involvement, treating things as if they were dead. It is something "external" from the interpreter-- much like the metaphor of embalming found in last semester's discussion of the archive. History is merely the preserved dead. Hegel criticizes this definitive historical, saying, "The tendency to be abstractly historical, to be occupied with lifeless objects, has in recent times gained ground."
The question for historians, moreso than philosophers, is one of validity: if we as comparative literature students, historians and literary critics at the same time, are merely handling what has died and cannot be resurrected, what is the significance of the work we do? How do we preserve the past and contribute to the present, and perhaps most importantly, as Derrida would suggest, how do we even preserve the past without destroying what it was and supplementing it with our own interpretations? All of these issues arise from the implication that history is merely what is dead, external, and inaccessible.
As for whether or not I believe history is dead or alive, I have to disagree with Hegel. I would not go so far as to claim that history is alive either; history repeats itself, and in many ways, has a lingering effect on present day, but it not immortal or eternal, as Hegel suggests of philosophy. The people have died, the objects have fallen apart, and the mindsets and beliefs have vanished. It is more accurate to suggest that history is neither dead nor alive, but the walking undead. In Dracula, a peasant tells the narrator to beware, "for the dead travel fast." History is instead the long dead which reaches from the ground and grabs at you, the thing which revives itself at each page. It has been preserved beyond death, but it is not pristine either; its body has begun to decay, there are scratches, wear, and blank patches. And beyond all this, it is consumptive. History consumes you, preserves you as its next undead.
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